


Psych 101

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Series: Psych 101 'Verse [1]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BDSM, First Time, Flogging, M/M, Punishment, Sex Club, Sexual Experimentation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: While only a little over an hour away by plane, Harvard University was worlds away from New York City.Malcolm goes to college and discovers a way to make the night terrors go away and learns a lot about himself in the process.(It involves BDSM)
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Psych 101 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558603
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	Psych 101

While only a little over an hour away by plane, Harvard University was worlds away from New York City. There had been a short adjustment period for Malcolm - his mother had sheltered him and his sister a bit from the world when he’d lived at home, something she couldn’t do for him in college.

But after about a month, Malcolm found his feet and began to flourish. People at Harvard didn’t really care about his last name - he was just another student there. He made a small group of friends there that had group dinners, group study sessions … it was nice.

Malcolm suffered through his general education classes, but his favorite class his first semester was Psychology 101. Psychology was his major, along with criminology, so it stood to reason Psych 101 would be his favorite over math or english.

But it wasn’t just the subject that made that class Malcolm’s favorite.

Clay Russell was a tenured Psychology professor at Harvard and taught Malcolm’s Psych 101 class. And he was unlike any of Malcolm’s other professors.

Professor Russell (“For fuck’s sake, call me Clay. Professor Russell makes me feel ancient”) didn’t talk or act like Malcolm’s preconceived notion of Harvard professors.

Clay’s class was so big it had to be taught in an auditorium, but that didn’t seem to matter. Clay sat on the desk, legs swinging as he talked to the class as if they were sitting in a bar. He cursed like a sailor, had no tact, and had this weird ability to make every student feel like he was talking directly to them.

Malcolm always sat somewhere in the center of the class - he didn’t want to sit in the front and get labeled a brown noser, yet didn’t want to sit in the back either. He took diligent notes and tried to figure out the weird butterflies that appeared in the pit of his stomach whenever he managed to catch Clay’s gaze.

Throughout the semester, Malcolm tried to participate, but not too much. It got harder, though, towards the end of the semester, when they started talking about dreams. Malcolm’s fascination with dreams and nightmares/night terrors made it impossible for him to keep quiet during that lesson and he based his final paper around it. He’d had to ask for a short extension so that he could properly finish it.

“Just bring it by my office,” Clay said. “As long as you get it to me before office hours end, you’re golden.”

Malcolm practically ran across campus with his paper in hand and when he reached Clay’s office, he stood for a few moments to catch his breath.

“I can hear you out there!” Clay called. “Get your ass in here and turn in your paper.”

Malcolm opened the door, took a step inside, and froze. Clay sat behind his desk wearing glasses and a dark grey zippered cable-knit sweater.

“C-clay?”

“Damned air conditioner broke and can’t seem to turn the thing off,” Clay said. “Whitly, right?”

“Malcolm, just Malcolm.”

“Yeah, can understand that,” Clay said. “That your paper?”

Malcolm suddenly remembered the paper clutched in his hand and nodded, stepping further inside the office and handing it over.

“Thanks for the extension,” Malcolm said.

“Sure, sure,” Clay replied, nudging his glasses and reading the front of Malcolm’s paper. “The Psychology of Night Terrors, huh?”

“Um, yeah,” Malcolm said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a vested interest, so … yeah.”

“Bet you do,” Clay replied. “Grades come out next week.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Malcolm said. “Um, I really enjoyed your class, sir.”

Clay glanced up and looked at Malcolm from over the top of his glasses. “I enjoyed having you in my class, Malcolm.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but shiver at bit at the way Clay looked at him, the way Clay said his name.

“Um, see you around campus,” Malcolm mumbled, practically stumbling out of Clay’s office.

With the semester over, Malcolm packed up to head home for the holidays. It was bearable in only the way that spending almost a month with your family could be. Grades came out exactly when Clay had said they would and Malcolm was pleased to see he’d passed all his classes with A’s (‘as if there had ever been a doubt’ his mother had commented).

When Malcolm returned to campus the week before classes were set to start again, he was surprised to find an email from Clay in his inbox amongst all his other emails from his new professors.

To: mwhitly@harvard.edu  
From: crussell@harvard.edu  
Cc: claymore@gmail.com  
Subject: The Psychology of Night Terrors

Malcom,  
Found your paper to be interesting. Would like to discuss it further, if you’re interested.  
Come by office hours if you can, or email me.  
Clay

Malcolm blinked a couple of times as he read the email over and over. The copied email was clearly not a faculty email - was it Clay’s personal email? He hesitated for a few minutes before composing an email to Clay from his personal account.

To: claymore@gmail.com   
From: far_from_the_tree@gmail.com  
Subject: Night Terrors

Clay,  
Would be interested in discussing.  
Malcolm

A flurry of emails back and forth and a few days later, Malcom met with Clay at a coffee shop off campus.

Clay was easy to spot and Malcolm made his way through the coffee shop and waited for Clay to notice him.

“Malcolm, glad you could make it,” Clay said. “Take a seat. Took the liberty of ordering you tea. Earl Grey.”

“Thanks,” Malcolm said as he sat down across from Clay. “The email was unexpected. Did you really find my paper interesting?”

“A portion of it,” Clay replied. “I was curious about your posit that the night terrors couldn’t be controlled.”

“I have yet to find anything that makes them go away,” Malcolm said, sipping his tea carefully.

“Interesting,” Clay murmured. “Interesting. Are you interested at all in trying to control your night terrors?”

Malcolm nodded as he continued to sip his tea. “Of course,” he said. “I’ve been doing some of my own research, outside of class, of course -”

“Of course,” Clay said. “Have you found anything to help?”

Malcolm shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “I feel like I need more classes under my belt so I can get a handle on this, but ... “

“I might have a solution,” Clay said. “It’s unconventional.”

“Well standard drugs don’t seem to be working,” Malcolm muttered. “I’m open to alternative measures.”

“I bet you are,” Clay said, voice pitched low.

A shiver went down Malcolm’s spine as he stared down at his cup of tea.

“I’d, um, be interested in your theories,” Malcolm said softly. “I’m not taking any of your classes this semester, though.”

“I know,” Clay replied. “I checked my rosters before I emailed you.”

“You did?”

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. “Let’s call this some off the record research, hmm?”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. “Okay.”

“Why don’t you email me your schedule and we can set up some dates and times to meet,” Clay suggested.

“Yeah, sure,” Malcolm said. “I can do that.” 

“Fantastic,” Clay said, leaning back in his seat as he watched Malcolm with a wide, easy smile. “Absolutely fantastic.”

* * * 

Throughout Malcolm’s second semester at Harvard, he met up with Clay at least once a week to discuss theories, ways of controlling or stopping night terrors. They met at the park, at a bookstore, at a coffee shop; sometimes they even grabbed lunch or dinner while they worked. 

As the semester came to a close, Malcolm found himself a bit sad. Classes were ending, which meant Malcolm would be heading back home. Without any new ways to combat the night terrors.

“Tried it,” Malcolm said as he finished his cup of coffee. He and Clay had been talking for hours about all the different theories they’d talked about over the semester, kind of an end of year review. 

“Really,” Clay said slowly.

“Yep,” Malcolm replied. “Psychotherapy helped a bit, but it got repetitive. I’m on a slew of medications which kind of help. But nothing sticks.”

Just then the waitress came over and took their plates, dropping the bill on the table.

“Closing up, boys,” she said. “Don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

Malcolm looked down at his watch and winced; it was well past curfew. 

“Going to get in trouble?” Clay asked as he stood and dropped some money on the table.

“Nah, they don’t do bed checks,” Malcolm said as he stood. “Just have to be quiet.”

“No roommate?” Clay asked. “That’s unusual for a freshman.”

“Mom got my doctor to write a note to the school, then dropped a bit of extra money to get me a single,” Malcolm said. “Kind of hard to explain the bed restraints.” Half a second later Malcolm realized what he’d just said and stopped. That was the one thing he’d never told Clay about.

“Bed restraints?” Clay said.

“Um, yeah,” Malcolm mumbled, rushing past Clay and exiting the diner.

“They’re that bad?” Clay asked, joining Malcolm out on the sidewalk.

“Sometimes,” Malcolm said, rubbing at his wrists a bit. He froze when he felt Clay’s rough fingers over Malcolm’s, stilling his hand.

“What are you going to do when you’re back home?” Clay asked.

Malcolm shrugged. “Go through bouts of insomnia, I guess,” he said. “They’re worse when I’m back home.”

“Listen,” Clay said. “I have an idea.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, stumbling a bit when he found himself being herded down the street by Clay, a strong arm around his shoulders.

“I expect you can’t stay in the dorms over summer,” Clay said.

“Yeah, that’s a no,” Malcolm replied.

“But you don’t want to go home,” Clay said.

“It’s stifling,” Malcolm said. “And there’s the worried looks and they treat me with kid gloves all the time.”

“So,” Clay said. “Why don’t you come stay with me this summer? We can continue to work out your night terror issue and you don’t have to go home.”

“What do I tell my mom?” Malcolm asked.

“Tell her it’s a summer internship,” Clay said. “She won’t check.”

“You’re so certain,” Malcolm said as they continued to walk in the direction of his dorm.

“Parents never check,” Clay said. “They’re just so fucking thrilled their kid is doing something, they don’t bother.”

“Can I think about it?” Malcolm asked.

“Sure thing,” Clay said, removing his arm from Malcolm’s shoulder as they reached Malcolm’s dorm. “And this is your stop.”

“Yep,” Malcolm said. “Thanks. For tonight and, um, the offer. I’ll let you know soon.” He froze when he felt one of Clay’s hands wrap around his wrist, squeezing just a bit. When Clay leaned down to whisper in his ear, Malcolm held his breath in … anticipation?

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, Malcolm.” 

Malcolm couldn’t help but shiver when he felt Clay’s breath on his ear.

“I’ll let you know soon,” Malcolm said again, voice shaking just a bit.

“Good.”

As Clay released Malcolm’s hand and walked away, Malcolm rubbed the spot where Clay had been touching. When Clay suddenly turned around and saw Malcolm still there, he gave Malcolm a small wink before turning back around. Malcolm blinked, wondering what had just happened, before the realization struck just how late it was. He made a mental note to examine his feelings later and hurried inside.

Maybe he’d sleep through the night.

* * * 

“I almost got lost finding the … kitchen.” Malcolm stopped just inside the doorway to the kitchen and stared.

He’d taken Clay up on his offer, of course, and had arrived the night before loaded down with a couple of boxes and a suitcase. Clay had escorted him up the stairs to a bedroom and told to get some sleep and they’d get started the next day.

“Too many doors?” Clay called from the stove.

Malcolm hesitated, struck momentarily dumb by the sight of Clay shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of dark blue linen sleep pants slung indecently low on his hips.

“What?”

Clay turned and gave Malcolm a smile. 

“Too many doors?” Clay asked again. “Sorry about that, this place is a bit of a maze.”

“You didn’t buy it for it’s maze-like properties?” Malcolm recovered and stepped further into the kitchen, smiling as the smell of bacon hit his nose.

“Fuck no,” Clay said. “Family home. Inherited it from some aunt who said I reminded her of her father. Wasn’t even going to touch it but it’s close to work so I make due.”

Malcolm laughed as he approached the island, watching Clay turn back to the stove and put bacon on a plate. 

“Smells good,” Malcolm said. “But none for me.”

“No bacon?”

“I don’t eat a lot of heavy foods,” Malcolm said with a shrug. “Doesn’t agree with me.”

“So what do you eat?” Clay said. “So I can make a proper shopping list.”

“Eggs, fruit, salads,” Malcolm said. “Vegetable smoothies, protein shakes, sometimes chicken, sometimes pasta. No cheese, not a lot of bread.”

“Explains why you’re so skinny,” Clay commented as he went to the fridge and got a couple of eggs and some vegetables. “Vegetable omelet okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Malcolm said. “And I can’t help it, I’ve always been skinny.”

“Well, maybe this summer I can help get some muscle on you,” Clay said, giving Malcolm an overt head to toe look.

Malcolm felt himself blushing and looked down at the counter, busying himself with pouring glasses of orange juice for himself and Clay.

“I assume then, that waffles are out of the question,” Clay said as the toaster popped up two microwave waffles.

“You would assume correctly,” Malcolm said. “The omelet is fine, really.”

“If you’re sure.” Clay set a plate with an omelet in front of Malcolm, then sat across from him with his own plate of waffles and bacon.

“I am, thanks,” Malcolm said.

“So, I figure I’ll give you today to get settled before we get down to trying to find a way to really combat those night terrors,” Clay said. “So explore a bit, get a feel for the place, make sure you know where everything is - the day is yours. But starting tomorrow? You belong to me.”

Malcolm couldn’t help but shiver at Clay’s words.

* * * 

“Up and at ‘em, M!”

Malcolm groaned and tugged the covers over his head.

“No,” he grumbled.

“Yes,” Clay said, tugging at Malcolm’s blankets. “We’re going on a run!”

Malcolm groaned again and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He squinted at Clay for a second, then glanced out the window.

“It’s still dark,” Malcolm said.

“No it’s not, it’s six,” Clay replied.

“In the morning?”

“Yep,” Clay said. “So get up and get dressed.”

“I don’t really … run,” Malcolm said as he rolled off the bed and stood, stretching sleepily. “I don’t think I even have proper running gear.”

“Dresser, second drawer from the top,” Clay said. “Grab a pair or shorts and a shirt and two pair of socks.”

“Two pairs?”

“New running shoes, wouldn’t want to get blisters breaking them in,” Clay said.

Malcolm padded over to the dresser and opened the drawer Clay had directed him to, blinking in surprise at the shirts and shorts he found there. He grabbed a green shirt and a pair of shorts, frowning at their construction. He turned to ask Clay about them and again found himself momentarily frozen when he realized what Clay was wearing - the skin tight shorts and tank top left nothing to the imagination.

“Um, double shorts?” Malcolm finally managed to ask, shaking the shorts in Clay’s direction.

“So you don’t chafe,” Clay said. “Trust me, you’ll appreciate it. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs in ten minutes. Running shoes are in the closet.”

Before Malcolm could protest further, Clay was gone. Malcolm sighed and stared at the clothes in his hands.

“Ten minutes, M!” Clay called.

Malcolm groaned and hurried to change, making sure to both on both pairs of socks before slipping the running shoes and making his way downstairs.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Malcolm mumbled.

“Everything fit okay?” Clay asked. “I guessed at the sizes.”

“You bought all this just for me?” Malcolm asked.

“I have plans, M,” Clay said. “So, let’s get going. Figure a five mile run will ease you into things.”

“Five miles?” Malcolm said. “I’m not a runner.”

“By the end of this summer you will be,” Clay said. “Ideally, we’d do a bit of yoga beforehand, but we’re already running behind schedule, so let’s get going. We’ll just have to suffer with only cool down yoga.”

“Yoga?” Malcolm said, frowning when Clay gave him a (mostly) playful shove towards the door.

“Healthy body, healthy mind,” Clay said.

“Don’t think my brain works that way,” Malcolm muttered as he followed Clay out of the house, sighing as Clay took off jogging.

“We shall see,” Clay said. “Now keep up, M!”

The pace was brisk, but not daunting and Malcolm somehow managed to keep up, although he suspected Clay was babying him a bit. When they finally made it back to Clay’s house, all Malcolm wanted to do was take a hot shower and a nap - not necessarily in that order.

“Nope, no laying around,” Clay said, tugging Malcolm out to the backyard.

“I’m tired,” Malcolm groaned.

“Stop whining, you’ll be grateful for this,” Clay said. “Wouldn’t want your muscles to start cramping, right?”

“No,” Malcolm muttered.

“Then stop being a baby,” Clay said. “Thirty minutes, max, and then we’ll eat breakfast and you can go shower.”

“Fine,” Malcolm replied. 

They reached the backyard and Malcolm blinked at the two mats laid out on the grass.

“See? I got plans,” Clay said. “Take your shoes and socks off and pick a mat.”

Malcolm had never, ever done yoga before and it seemed like a bit of a clusterfuck to him. He constantly felt like he was going to fall over, and Clay being so close didn’t help much. Every time he felt his balance shift, Clay was right there, hands on his hips or his lower back, helping adjust his stance. By the time the ‘session’ was done, Malcolm felt more off balance than when they’d first started.

“Going to be a daily thing?” Malcolm asked as he stood to collect his socks and shoes.

“Both before and after our run,” Clay said. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better. Now go get a shower in and then we’ll tuck into breakfast.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, passing Clay on his way to the door. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Clay watching him with a smile. As Malcolm made his way inside and up the stairs he couldn’t help but smile to himself - there was something about the way Clay looked at him that made him feel … something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

But he had a feeling things would come into focus soon enough.

* * * 

“Okay.” Malcolm entered the kitchen where Clay was loading the dishwasher.

“Okay?” Clay turned and leaned back against the counter. “Okay what, M?”

“I’ve been trying the ‘healthy body, healthy mind’ routine for three weeks, and the nightmares and night terrors haven’t decreased,” Malcolm said.

Not to mention whatever was between him and Clay had been growing to the point where Malcolm felt almost uncomfortable anytime they were sharing the same space. And given they were living in the same house, they shared the same space a lot.

So Malcolm was uncomfortable a lot.

“And?” Clay asked, pushing off the counter and closing the space between the two of them. “What do you want?”

“I want them to stop,” Malcolm whispered. “Please.”

“Good M,” Clay said soothingly. “I have a theory about you. And I couldn’t just throw you into the deep end. I had to ease you into things a bit. But now that you’ve asked, you’re ready.”

“A theory?” Malcolm repeated. 

“Mmmhmm,” Clay said, a hand on Malcolm’s back just below his neck between his shoulder blades. “You’re always thinking, even in sleep. So we need to try to quiet it.”

“Isn’t that what the drugs are for?” Malcolm asked.

“You would think so,” Clay said. “But you? You’re different, M.”

Malcolm shivered at Clay’s tone and the pressure of Clay’s hand on his back as Clay directed him from the kitchen down the hall towards the basement. He’d been in the basement before, to the wine cellar to get a bottle of cooking wine for Clay to use. As Clay led him down the stairs, through the cellar and away from where the wine was stored, Malcolm realized that the cellar was much bigger than he’d originally assumed.

“Remember what I said upstairs about throwing you in the deep end,” Clay said as they stopped just outside a door Malcolm hadn’t noticed before. 

Malcolm nodded and watched as Clay opened the door, turned on the light and stepped inside, giving Malcolm a few minutes to get his bearings.

At first glance, it looked just like a bedroom. But the more Malcolm looked around, the more things jumped out at him. The bed looked like a standard four poster bed at first glance, but then Malcolm noticed the restraints. In the corner looked to be a bench, but there were … footrests? In another corner was a large wooden X that had restraints on it that made Malcolm actually take a step back.

“M,” Clay said gently, grabbing Malcolm’s hand.

“This is … this all … you …” Malcolm felt himself try to step back, but Clay’s firm grip on his hand kept him from moving.

“Remember what I said,” Clay said. “You’re special, M. Your brain’s always working, always going. So we need to find a way to turn if off for a bit. And while unconventional, I think this is just what you need.”

“I’m already restrained while I sleep, it doesn’t help,” Malcolm said.

“If this works, you won’t have to be restrained while you sleep,” Clay said. “M, what do you know about BDSM?”

“Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism,” Malcolm replied; he was a nineteen year old man with a healthy sexual appetite with access to internet.

“Okay you know what the acronym stands for,” Clay said, chuckling softly. “But do you know anything else?”

Malcolm shrugged. “What I’ve seen in porn?” he said, blushing when Clay laughed.

“All right,” Clay said. “We’re going to correct any preconceived notions of BDSM, then, along with testing my theory about that brain of yours.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly.

“I think the way to get your brain to be quiet is going to be found in submission,” Clay said. “Someone else telling you what to do, relieving you of the burden of trying to make all the decisions.”

Malcolm shivered a bit at Clay’s words. It sounded enticing, at least the way Clay talked about it.

“I … I can say no?” Malcolm asked, staring at the bed.

“You can,” Clay said slowly. “But darlin’? I highly suspect you want to say yes. I heard the way your breath hitched, I can see the look in your eyes. You want to say yes, don’t you, M?”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded.

“You have to actually say it,” Clay urged. “Say the word, M.”

“Yes.” It was whispered, barely uttered, but to Malcolm it felt like he’d yelled the word.

“A little louder, M,” Clay said. “Say the word.”

Malcolm licked his lips and continued to stare at the bed. “Yes,” he said, a bit louder.

“That’s my boy,” Clay said.

The flush of pleasure Malcolm felt at Clay’s simple praise was heady and Malcolm already wanted more. He felt Clay release his hand, then shivered when he felt Clay’s hand at the nape of his neck, fingers in Malcolm’s hair. He hummed softly and leaned back into Clay’s touch, then immediately stopped and blushed when Clay laughed softly.

“Just proving me right, darlin’,” Clay murmured. “So let’s out a few ground rules specifically for this room. In here, what I say goes. I’m going to push limits that you might not like, but you’ll take it because I want you to.”

“Wait, I can’t say no?” A part of Malcolm was terrified by the prospect, the other half was intrigued.

“To an extent,” Clay said. “I’ll check in with you a lot, using the traffic light system. Green, obviously, means keep going. Yellow means we pause and talk about what’s happening - doesn’t mean we stop. Red light means we stop. But let me be clear, M, I will not tolerate a red light unless you’re having a full blown panic attack or a medical emergency.”

Malcolm licked his lips again and stared at the bed.

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “Yes.”

“Good.” Clay closed the door behind them and nudged Malcolm over to the bed. “Strip down to your underwear and get on the bed.”

Malcolm swallowed and then began to strip. Tossing his shirt and jeans on the floor, Malcolm climbed onto the bed and laid in the center on his back, biting his lip nervously.

“Now, ain’t this a sight,” Clay said as he approached the bed.

Malcolm stared up at Clay, at the soft black henley that hugged his arms and torso, at the soft grey sweatpants that sat low on his hips. On anyone else the outfit would seem soft, innocuous, but on Clay? On Clay it just screamed power.

“Clay?” Malcolm said hesitantly. When Clay gave him a very pointed look, Malcolm lowered his gaze and licked his lips. “Sir?”

“That’s it,” Clay praised. “Today, and only today, I’m going to tell you everything I’m doing. I said I wasn’t going to throw you into the deep end and I mean it. So today’s going to be slow and easy. We’re going to try some restraints, maybe a blindfold and perhaps a light flogging.”

“Fl-flogging?” Malcolm asked, watching as Clay walked over to a dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a black leather flogger, running his fingers through the strands.

“Slow and easy, M,” Clay said. “I’m not doing this to hurt you or scare you.”

Malcolm wasn’t scared. Quite the opposite, actually. The sight of Clay standing there with the flogger was … arousing. 

“But you’re not scared,” Clay said as he set the flogger on the nightstand next to the bed. “Oh, quite the opposite. That’s good, M. Very good.”

Malcolm tried not to hold his breath as Clay secured Malcolm to the bed using the restraints there. Wrist, ankle, ankle, wrist. Clay walked slowly around the bed, caressing Malcolm’s skin as he secured the leather straps around Malcolm’s wrists and ankles. When Malcolm was secured, Clay stepped back and watched Malcolm for a few minutes.

“Try to move,” Clay said. “Tell me if you’re in pain.”

Malcolm tried to move and found himself completely immobile, which left Malcolm feeling … vulnerable.

“No pain,” Malcolm whispered.

“Good,” Clay said. “Very good. You do look good like this, M.”

Malcolm felt himself blush at the praise.

“We’re going to add another layer,” Clay continued, reaching over to the nightstand and lifting up a black blindfold.

Malcolm’s breath hitched in momentary panic. “Yellow,” he whispered.

Clay sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on Malcolm’s chest. “You have to learn to let go a bit, M,” he said soothingly. “Part of submission is trust. You are entrusting your body to me. You’re entrusting me to make the right decisions for what’s good for you. Do you trust me, M?”

Malcolm hesitated, then gave Clay a small nod.

“That’s my boy,” Clay whispered. He stood and leaned over Malcolm a bit, brushing a lock of hair off Malcolm’s forehead before carefully tying the blindfold around Malcolm’s eyes.

Malcolm’s breath hitched again as everything went dark, but then Clay’s fingers were in his hair, gently rubbing at Malcolm’s scalp, reassuring him.

“There you go, M,” Clay murmured. “That’s it. That’s my boy.”

Malcolm hummed softly, arching into Clay’s fingers still entrenched in his hair. It was … different. Without the ability to see, to move, everything just seemed … more.

“Green,” Malcolm mumbled.

“I didn’t ask, but good to know you’re okay,” Clay said, tone teasing.

Malcolm made a little sound when he felt Clay’s fingers leave his hair, but gasped when felt the leather strands of the flogger run down his chest.

“You call yellow if you start to spook,” Clay said. “But otherwise, I’ll stop when I think it’s time. Yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said. “Yes.”

The first strike of the flogger hit Malcolm on the stomach. It was gentle, but with enough sting to elicit a gasp from Malcolm. The next one hit Malcolm’s upper thigh, then his chest, then his arm, his shin … sometimes hard, sometimes soft, Malcolm was lost in the sensation, the anticipation of trying to guess where the flogger would strike next. Faster, harder, more aggressive until … Malcolm felt like he was floating. Everything drifted away except the feel of the flogger against his skin. There was almost a tranquility that came with it … and when it eventually stopped, Malcolm whimpered.

“Shhhh.”

Malcolm whimpered again when his ankles and wrists were released, groaning when he felt rough, calloused fingers gently massaging his joints. He felt the bed dip and felt arms around him, cuddling him against a strong chest. The feel of soft cotton against his cheek and the smell of cedar and bourbon filled his nose and he hummed, content. The blindfold around his eyes was released, but Malcolm kept his eyes closed, burying his nose into the chest of the man holding him. When Malcolm felt a hand gently stroking his hair he sighed happily, his whole body relaxed.

“My bright boy,” the voice said, and through a heavy fog, Malcolm recognized the voice as Clay’s.

“Green,” Malcolm mumbled, smiling when he felt Clay’s chest rumble with laughter.

* * *

The summer passed in relative tranquility. Yoga, running, more yoga … and when Malcolm started to get a bit twitchy, they’d head into the cellar.

At some point during the summer, their time in the cellar tripped over the line of just being a way to get Malcolm to sleep. Malcolm had lain there begging Clay to just take him, he wanted it, needed it … and when he’d come back to himself he gave Clay a silly smile.

“This changes things,” Clay murmured.

“I don’t care,” Malcolm whispered back. “I don’t care.”

* * * 

The school year started and Clay and Malcolm adjusted to their new schedules and the changes in their relationship. Malcolm kept his clothes in his room but slept every night in Clay’s bed, wrapped in Clay’s embrace.

“If we’re changing things in the bedroom,” Clay said over breakfast a few weeks into the new year. “Then I’m going to impose two rules.”

“Rules?” Malcom asked. They really only had rules when they were down in the cellar - that room was full of rules.

“Yeah,” Clay said. “Just two, but they’re kinda biggies.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly.

“First rule,” Clay said. “You’re going to learn self defense; jujitsu, kung fu, Krav Maga.”

“What, think I’m going to be getting into street fights?” Malcolm asked.

“No, but it never hurts to be prepared,” Clay said. 

Malcolm frowned a bit at the shadow that passed over Clay’s face. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly, reaching over and resting a hand on Clay’s arm. 

“I just want you to be prepared,” Clay said. “When I was your age I wasn’t, and it didn’t do me any favors.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Clay’s shoulder. “So, am I taking these classes at the local Y?” He looked up at Clay with a mischievous smile.

“Fuck that,” Clay said. “I’m going to teach you.”

“Any chance we can have naked lessons?” Malcolm teased.

“Play your cards right,” Clay responded lowly. “And be good.”

“Aren’t I always?” Malcolm gave Clay a wink before going to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of water.

“Cheeky,” Clay said. “Anyway, the second rule is harder, but I feel also very necessary.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said.

“While you’re here, while we are what we are,” Clay said, “I don’t want you seeing your father.”

Malcolm paused with the bottle of water halfway to his mouth. “Wait, what?”

“I won’t make you stop cold turkey,” Clay said. “I’ll give you to the end of this school year. But it has to stop.”

“Wait -”

“I see what going to see him does to you, M,” Clay said. “He gets inside your head and you get dark, moody, after you’ve seen him. Your nightmares are worse, your night terrors are, well, terrifying and it takes me that much longer to bring you down.”

“But he’s my father.” It was a flimsy excuse and Malcolm knew it.

“He is,” Clay agreed. “But he’s also a narcissicistic as fuck psychopath. No offense to you, M, but he is. And it scares me to think what he could do. So I’m asking you. Please, stop going to visit him.”

Malcolm hesitated for a moment, the set his bottle down and crossed the room, wrapping Clay in a hug.

“I have until the end of the school year?” Malcolm asked softly.

“The end of the school year,” Clay said.

“Okay.”

* * * 

“Are you trying to kill me?” Malcolm glared up at Clay from his spot on the floor.

“No, I’m trying to train you,” Clay said.

Malcolm groaned as he got to his feet and stretched. Clay had been training him for about a month, alternating between jujitsu, kung fu and Krav Maga. Between school, yoga, running and fight training, Malcolm barely had time for nightmares and night terrors.

They still managed to sneak up on him, though.

“If I go to class with a black eye, there will be questions,” Malcolm said.

“Nah, it’ll just make you look dangerous,” Clay said. “Sexy.”

“Black eyes are not sexy,” Malcolm said. “Clay, we’ve been at this for an hour already, can we call it a day? Please?”

Malcolm watched Clay carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when Clay nodded.

“Yeah,” Clay said. “I just -”

“Want me to be prepared,” Malcolm finished. He closed the space between himself and Clay and took Clay’s hand. “You know my darkest secrets, Clay. You can trust me with yours.”

“Christ, I’m not sober enough for this,” Clay said.

Malcolm watched Clay run a hand over his face before Malcolm found himself ushered from where they were working out through the house to the study. Malcolm dropped onto the couch with a low groan and watched as Clay fixed himself a large glass of bourbon before joining Malcolm.

“Hard to talk about?” Malcolm asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah,” Clay replied. “Still talk about it with my own therapist sometimes.”

Malcolm blinked. “You see a therapist,” he said.

“Well yeah,” Clay said. “I got neuroses out the wazoo and wouldn’t be a good teacher or therapist if I didn’t get counseling myself. I help out in the counseling center here on campus, so it’s mandatory that I meet with a therapist to talk things out. Make sure I’m okay.”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. “That makes sense.”

“Anyway,” Clay said. “I didn’t grow up here. Shocking I know, given my posh accent and all. I grew up in the midwest, doesn’t really matter where, just a place that wasn’t too accepting of the kind of person I was. I mean, I figured out I wasn’t exactly straight way back in middle school, just took me a while to put a name to it.”

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm said, resting his head on Clay’s arm.

“Thanks,” Clay said. “I got away with it for a while, just dating women - which was fine because I happen to like women too. But I got a bit older, a bit bolder, and I started to explore who I was, what I really liked. Going to junior college while I saved money and got my GE credits didn’t really lend itself to the BDSM culture, or finding a guy or girl who was into that as well.”

“I can imagine,” Malcolm said, not urging, just listening to Clay talk.

“I found a place the next county over,” Clay said, taking a drink of bourbon. “Where I met with women and men, where I learned about domination, where I found the first man I loved. Or rather, the first man who made me get butterflies in my stomach.”

“Clay,” Malcolm said, his stomach sinking as he realized where the story was going.

“Yeah,” Clay said, pressing a kiss to the top of Malcolm’s head. “One night things went to shit. Deep shit. I spent about a week in the hospital - parents kicked me out, had to crash on couches for a while.”

“Fuck, Clay,” Malcolm said.

“Anyway, if I’d had the fighting knowledge then that I have now, things would’ve been different,” Clay murmured, downing the rest of his bourbon.

“Not necessarily,” Malcolm said. “I mean, we can’t go back and change the past, we can only learn from it. You clearly learned from it, because you’re torturing me daily with drills and training.”

“I don’t want it to happen to you, M,” Clay said. 

“Getting that,” Malcolm said. “Just understand that sometimes I need a break.”

“Got it,” Clay said. “How about a hot bath?”

“Well, I have both worked off dinner and worked myself to near exhaustion,” Malcolm said. “So a bath would be nice.”

“Imp,” Clay said.

“Yep,” Malcolm said as he climbed off the couch and stretched. “But you like it.”

“Damned right I do,” Clay said. “All right, bath it is.”

“Awesome,” Malcolm said, heading straight for the master bathroom, knowing Clay would follow him.

Once in the bathroom, Malcolm started the water running before stripping down and tossing his clothes in the corner. Malcolm watched as steam rose from the tub, adding a bit of sandalwood oil before turning the water off.

“Smells good.” 

Malcolm glanced over his shoulder to where Clay stood.

“You’re overdressed,” Malcolm commented as he climbed into the tub, hissing as the hot water hit his aching muscles.

“Guess I should remedy that,” Clay said.

Malcolm watched as Clay stripped down, admiring him - the languid way he moved, the tattoos, even the scars. All of it so beautiful. Malcolm shifted forward as Clay stepped towards the tub, smiling when Clay slipped into the water behind him.

“This is nice,” Malcolm said. “Relaxing and all after my slavedriver of a trainer drilled me into the ground.” He squeaked when Clay tweaked one of his nipples.

“I’ll show you drilling,” Clay murmured.

“Later,” Malcolm said. “Let’s just relax right now.”

“Yeah,” Clay said. “For now. Might drill that ass later.”

Malcolm laughed and wiggled a bit in Clay’s lap. “Look forward to it,” he said.

“Stop that,” Clay said. “Trying to relax here.”

Malcolm laughed again and shifted a bit so his head was pillowed on Clay’s chest, one arm slipped around Clay’s midsection. Clay’s heart under his ear, Malcolm hummed happily at the sound of Clay’s heartbeat in his ear. It was so strange, the way he and Clay had connected so quickly - it had taken him much longer to connect with his college friends but Clay? Clay just clicked. And Malcolm was realistic - he knew that he and Clay probably weren’t forever. He didn’t have any fairy tale fantasies about Clay following him to the FBI and the two of them living in domestic, kinky bliss.

But Malcolm was happy with how things were for now.

“I do appreciate it, you know,” Malcolm said after a few minutes. “The training.”

“You’re a quick study,” Clay said. “Not everyone picks it up as quickly as you are.”

“You’re just saying that so you can tie me to your bed later,” Malcolm replied, pressing a kiss to Clay’s chest.

“Don’t need to sweet talk you into that,” Clay said. “You already want it, I just have to say the word.”

Malcolm shivered a bit at Clay’s words, his eyes drifting closed when he felt Clay’s hands in his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

“But I don’t think I’m gonna tie you up tonight,” Clay continued.

“No?” Malcolm murmured.

“No,” Clay said. 

“Okay,” Malcolm said. 

They soaked in the tub until the water started to cool. Malcolm drained the tub while Clay started the shower and tugged Malcolm in with him. Under the warm spray they washed each other, hands slipped and slid over soapy skin and when it was over Malcolm stood patiently still on the bathmat while Clay gently dried him off. 

“My good little M,” Clay murmured. “Go turn the bed down and get under the covers and I’ll be there in a sec.”

“M’kay,” Malcolm said, giving Clay a kiss before padding to the bedroom. He turned the bed down, climbed under the covers and waited. Soon enough, the bed dipped and Malcolm found himself the little spoon with Clay pressed up against him. Malcolm snuggled back happily and closed his eyes, smiling as Clay’s hand rested possessively on his stomach.

“Thank you,” Malcolm murmured after a few minutes.

“For what?”

“For trusting me tonight,” Malcolm said softly. “I know that was hard, telling me that story. And I’m glad you trust me enough to open yourself up like that.”

“My bright boy,” Clay whispered. “I’d trust you with everything.”

* * * 

“I’m sorry, we’re doing what?” Malcolm froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and glanced up Clay.

“Going on a vacation,” Clay said. “It’s spring break and I know you don’t want to go home and I don’t want to stay here this week, so we’re going on a vacation.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly. “When?”

“Now,” Clay said. “I already packed you a bag, not that we’ll need much.”

“Wait, you packed me a bag? We’re going now? Where are we going?” Malcolm asked.

“Somewhere peaceful where it’ll just be you and me,” Clay said. “And that’s all you’re going to get - I want the rest to be a surprise.”

Malcolm sighed, but gave Clay a fond smile. Malcolm found that Clay was sometimes a bit like a kid when he got excited about something.

“Okay,” Malcolm said. “I could use a getaway.”

“I know,” Clay replied. “Now shut that damned computer down and get your shoes on. We have about 24 hours of flying ahead of us.”

“24 hours?”

“Well, if you want peace and quiet, you gotta travel for it,” Clay said. “Now scoot!”

Malcolm laughed as he closed his laptop and grabbed his shoes. When he got back to the foyer, he found Clay already waiting there with two carry ons.

“Wow, when you said we were leaving now, you meant it,” Malcolm said. 

“Yep, car’s waiting for us outside,” Clay said. “Don’t worry I have your passport - I’ve taken care of everything.”

“You always do,” Malcolm said fondly. “You always do.”

Clay had been right, he and Malcolm went from plane to plane (first class of course), jetting from airport to airport for close to twenty four hours as they got closer and closer to their final destination. The closer they got, the smaller their planes got until they were on a seaplane, landing on the ocean next a wooden boardwalk.

Malcolm was so exhausted from the travel, he didn’t really register where they were.

“We there?” Malcolm mumbled.

“We’re there,” Clay said. “It’s about eight at night, so as soon as we’re in our bungalow, we’re gonna sleep the night and do all our exploring tomorrow.”

“That sounds nice,” Malcolm said sleepily. He felt Clay’s arm under his arms, helping him into a little golf cart. The breeze as they rode the car to their bungalow woke Malcolm up just a bit, but he was still pretty out of it by the time the cart came to a stop. He barely registered Clay lifting him in his arms and carrying him into the bungalow, gently depositing him on the bed.

He hummed softly when he felt Clay removing his shoes and stripping him down to his underwear. When the bed dipped, Malcolm instinctively turned towards Clay, burrowing his face in Clay’s neck as he let sleep take over.

* * * 

Early morning light filtered through curtains and woke Malcolm out of a dead sleep. He gave a low groan and stretched, sitting up in bed as he tried to get his bearings.

“Holy shit,” Malcolm whispered as he caught sight of the view outside the big bay doors opposite the bed. A large deck with a pool and deck chairs and past that, the ocean - so blue and clear Malcolm could swear it was painted.

“G’mornin’,” Clay said as he exited the bathroom.

“Where are we?” Malcolm whispered.

“The Maldives,” Clay said.

“The … holy shit,” Malcolm said.

“We have this whole little bungalow to ourselves,” Clay said. “Do you want a tour?”

“Do we have to do running and yoga?” Malcolm asked.

“No running,” Clay said. “Yoga only if you want - this week is all about relaxation.”

“I like the idea of a week of relaxation,” Malcolm said as he climbed out of bed and stretched. “But I wouldn’t mind doing yoga.”

“Was hoping you’d say that,” Clay said. “But first, a tour.”

Malcolm laughed and let Clay lead him around the bungalow, exclaiming excitedly over all the glass windows in the floor showing them they were, indeed, on water. There was an outdoor bathtub and shower, a good sized kitchen and a rooftop deck that had … 

“A slide?” Malcolm said. “A slide.”

“Yep, goes right into the water,” Clay said. “We’ll try it later. And don’t think I’m not gonna have some fun with you in that outdoor tub.”

“Look forward to it,” Malcolm replied.

“But right now,” Clay said. “I ordered us breakfast - should be here any second.”

“Breakfast sounds awesome,” Malcolm said. 

“On the upstairs deck,” Clay said. “Ocean view and everything.”

Malcolm sighed happily and nodded, heading to his bag and grabbing a pair of shorts. He tugged them on and turned, squeaking when he found Clay standing in Malcolm’s space.

“You didn’t ask if you could put shorts on,” Clay said, tone half dark, half serious.

Malcolm shivered as Clay snapped the band of Malcolm’s shorts playfully. 

“Sorry,” Malcolm said softly. “Is it okay?”

“I’ll allow it today,” Clay said, pulling Malcolm in for a bruising kiss. 

“Thanks,” Malcolm said a bit breathlessly. “B-breakfast?”

“Up on the deck, let’s go.”

Malcolm followed Clay up the stairs to the deck, where a whole spread had been laid out on the table. Malcolm smiled when he saw the plates of fresh fruit, a spinach and tomato omelette, a large carafe of orange juice, and a big hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausage that was clearly for Clay.

“This is amazing,” Malcolm said as he sat down in front of the omelette.

“Thought you’d like it,” Clay said. “I called ahead and let them know about your diet and made sure there would be plenty of choices for you.”

Malcolm smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Clay’s cheek.

“So is this week just going to be yoga and relaxing?” Malcolm asked.

“And lots of sex,” Clay said. “Don’t think I didn’t pack a few things away in my carry on.”

Malcolm shivered a bit at Clay’s words as he ate.

“I would expect nothing less,” Malcolm said softly.

“So, eat up,” Clay said. “We’ll get a yoga session in and then see what this little island has for us.”

The island had a lot to offer - if not directly on the island, then on neighboring islands. There was jet skis, windsurfing, paddle boarding, glass bottom boat excursions … things Malcolm had only imagined trying. And Clay? Clay let Malcolm try everything he wanted, indulging every one of Malcolm’s whims. 

But Malcolm’s evenings belonged to Clay Whether they ate dinner on the upper deck then watched the sunset with Malcolm bent over the railing as Clay pounded into him. Or when Malcolm spent the evening bound to the bed while Clay teased and tormented Malcolm until he was begging, pleading for release.

The five days they spent in their little bungalow were pure bliss.

Malcolm was loathe to return to the real world, but knew it was necessary.

“Can we do this again?” Malcolm asked as he packed, checking his bag to make sure he had everything.

“Of course,” Clay said. “Maybe not this particular location next time. Maybe the mountains?”

“That’d be nice,” Malcolm said. “Just as long as it’s you and me.”

“Deal.”

* * * 

Malcolm knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the house. Normally when he got home during the summer, either the television would be on or the radio would be blaring, and Clay would either be yelling at the television or singing along to the radio.

But the house was quiet. Eerily quiet.

Malcolm set his keys on the table in the entryway and padded through the house, eyes peeled for Clay. He found Clay sitting in the kitchen drinking a glass of water.

“Clay?” Malcolm said softly.

“I know where you went,” Clay replied.

Malcolm’s stomach dropped. 

“Y-you do?” Malcolm asked, resisting the urge to wring his hands as Clay stood and put the empty glass in the sink.

“You agreed to stop,” Clay said. “By the end of the school year.”

“I know,” Malcolm said. “And I did - I just needed one more -”

“No,” Clay said. “Because then it’ll always be ‘just one more’.”

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered. “I’ll stop, I swear.”

“You will,” Clay replied. “Because if you don’t, then this all stops. Right now.”

“No,” Malcolm said quickly. “Please, Clay. I won’t see him again. And I’ll make it up to you. I will. Whatever you want.”

“Stopping will be enough,” Clay said. “But you lied to me, M. And that is not something easily forgivable.”

Malcolm was quiet for a few minutes. “I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary,” he said, lowering his voice and bowing his head.

“I know you will,” Clay said. “Come.”

The guilt settled like a stone in Malcolm’s stomach as he followed Clay down to the cellar and into the room. The door closed with an ominous ‘click’ and Malcolm stood just inside the door, waiting for instruction.

“Strip,” Clay said.

Malcolm nodded and quickly stripped down, folding his clothes and setting them on the stool just inside the door.

“Spanking bench,” Clay said.

Malcolm swallowed and nodded, crossing the room and climbing onto the bench. The padding made sure Malcolm wasn’t uncomfortable, but the position was incredibly vulnerable - his ass up in the air, ready for whatever Clay wanted to do.

“This is not going to be fun, and it’s not something I want to do,” Clay said.

Malcolm dropped his head as he heard Clay cross the room. He knew he had made a mistake - seeing his father even when Clay had told him to stop - and this was his penance.

“I think twenty will get the point across,” Clay said. “I will count. And when this is over, then the slate is clean. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said softly.

“I won’t limit your speech,” Clay said. “So express yourself freely.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said again.

The first strike came without warning and Malcolm yelled out in surprise. The rest of the strikes came in rapid fire succession and Malcolm’s ass felt like it was on fire and he didn’t even realize that he was crying and yelling until Clay came around and gently wiped his face. 

“I know you’re sorry,” Clay whispered.

“I -” Malcolm hiccuped. “I said I was sorry?”

“You were yelling it, M,” Clay murmured. “But the slate’s clean now, okay?”

Malcolm hiccuped again and nodded. He relaxed a bit as he felt Clay release him, but couldn’t find the energy to climb off the bench. He groaned when he felt Clay lift him into his arms and carry him over to the bed. The soft cotton of the duvet felt cool against his chest and stomach and Malcolm sighed happily. The cool aloe on his ass made Malcolm hiss, then sigh as the coolness eased the sting.

“Here, have some water,” Clay said.

Malcolm found his head directed to a glass of water with a straw in it and drank greedily. When he’d had his fill, Malcolm dropped his head back to the pillow, humming when he felt Clay’s fingers in his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Malcolm whispered. “I won’t go back.”

“I know,” Clay whispered back. “You don’t need him, you know. You are a strong, bright, beautiful man who doesn’t need that man’s narcissistic negativity bringing you down.”

Malcolm sighed as he felt Clay press soft kisses across his shoulders and down his back.

“Your bright boy,” Malcolm mumbled.

“That’s right,” Clay replied. “My bright boy.”

* * * 

“Malcom, what a surprise! I didn’t expect you to be back so soon!”

“Not Malcolm.” Clay stood just inside the door to Martin’s room and gave the man a stoic look.

“Who are you?”

“Clay Russell,” Clay said. “And Malcolm won’t be coming back. At least not while I still have something to say about it.”

“I believe that is my son’s decision to make.”

“And he’s made it,” Clay said. “He’s not coming back. He chose me over you.”

“He’ll always be my son.”

“Maybe. But he sure as shit ain’t yours anymore.” Clay gave Martin Whitly a dark look. “He’s mine.”

* * * 

Summer turned to fall and Malcolm headed back to Harvard for his junior year. General education done, Malcolm’s classes changed focus to his majors. He started to look past graduation, to what would lie ahead for him.

A graduate program was definitely in his future - he’d already started to look for schools with a good criminology masters program.

After that? Definitely the FBI.

All of it sounded fantastic, but he knew that the closer he got to graduation, the closer he got to whatever was between he and Clay coming to an end.

He honestly didn’t know what would happen then.

“Clay?” Malcolm hesitated just inside Clay’s study, watching Clay grade some tests.

“What’s up, M?” Clay said, not even looking up from his papers.

“Can we talk?”

Clay looked up and gave Malcolm a look over the top of his glasses.

“Of course,” Clay said, getting up and moving over to the couch, motioning for Malcolm to join him.

“I’ve been thinking,” Malcolm started.

“Sometimes a dangerous activity when it comes to you,” Clay said teasingly.

Malcolm grinned as he settled on the couch next to Clay, resting his head on Clay’s shoulder.

“I’m going to start applying for graduate schools soon,” Malcolmsaid. “I want to get my masters in Criminology.”

“Best school to do that is University of Albany,” Clay said.

“Exactly,” Malcolm said. “Which means I won’t be here.”

“And you’re already trying to figure out what to do,” Clay said. “Darlin’, don’t you think I haven’t been planning for that exact day? I mean, this is amazing, but I’m sure as shit not gonna be the thing that holds you back. So, when your time here is done and you’ve figured out where you’re going to go next, then I’ll have a couple of Doms, both male and female, to introduce you to. We’ll find someone for you.”

Malcolm didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the tears on his lips. 

“Aww darlin’.”

Malcolm squeaked when he felt Clay pull him onto his lap, but sighed and snuggled into Clay’s arms.

“Always looking out for me,” Malcolm whispered.

“I’ll always look out for my bright boy.”

* * * 

“Ugh, why did I decide I was going to spend the holidays with my family this year?” 

Malcolm groaned as he clutched his coat tighter around him to keep out the cold. He’d managed to survive Christmas and was desperately hoping something would come up that could get him out of the annual New Years’ Gala that his mother threw every year.

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?”

Malcolm stopped and turned around, eyes wide when he saw Clay behind him.

“What are you doing in the city?” Malcolm asked.

“Saving you from your family,” Clay said, closing the space between the two of them. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Yes,” Malcolm said.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” Clay said, laughing.

“If it gets me out of my mom’s New Years’ Gala, I’m in,” Malcolm said.

“Well, it’s another New Years’ party,” Clay said. “But it’s with a group of my friends at some swanky club downtown.”

“Yes,” Malcolm said, already reaching for his phone to text his mother. “I’ll just tell my mom that some college buddies showed up and I’m going to spend tonight with them.”

“Smart boy,” Clay said, slipping an arm around Malcolm’s shoulders. “Now, this party is going to require a very specific look. So, in the hopes that you would say yes, I made some plans for you.”

Malcolm laughed as he sent his text and tucked his phone away.

“Plans for me?” Malcolm said.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay said. “Not sure how much of it you’ll like, but it’ll be worth it.”

“Promises, promises,” Malcolm said. “I trust you.”

“I know,” Clay said. “Come on, I hired a car for the day and they’re waiting just around the corner.”

“You hired a car,” Malcolm repeated. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to drive one of my cars all the way here,” Clay said. “And every taxi I have ever ridden here in the city smelled like shit and I wasn’t gonna subject either of us to that, so I hired a car. They’ll take us around today, drop us off at the party tonight and take us back to my hotel for the evening.”

“Well that sounds nice,” Malcolm said as they headed down the street and around the corner, stopping by a black town car. 

“After you,” Clay said as he held the door open for Malcolm.

Malcolm slid into the car and settled into the plush leather seats, smiling when Clay joined him. Malcolm tugged off his beanie and gloves and unbuttoned his coat a bit, laughing when Clay ruffled his hair.

“I missed you,” Malcolm said.

“Missed you too,” Clay said. “Part of the reason I came to the city. Also to see some of my friends.”

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed, leaning against Clay as the car ventured into traffic and began to make its way through the city. Malcolm didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with mindless chatter, happy to just sit in companionable silence.

When the car came to a stop in a fairly nondescript part of the city, Malcolm squinted out the window.

“You sad you trusted me, right?” Clay said as he climbed out of the car and offered Malcolm a hand.

“Yeah,” Malcolm said, letting Clay tug him out of the car. When he caught sight of the storefront and what was happening on the other side of the windows, he stopped.

“It will be mostly painless, I promise,” Clay said. “Let me pamper you a bit?”

“Pamper, huh?” Malcolm said. 

“Well, it won’t involve any shared baths, but I think you’ll enjoy it regardless,” Clay teased.

“Fine,” Malcolm said. “The things I do for you.”

Clay laughed and Malcolm couldn’t help but smile as Clay ushered him inside and went to speak to the receptionist. Malcolm snuggled into Clay’s side, not really paying attention to what was going on, just putting his trust in Clay.

“Now, I’m easing you into this pampering thing,” Clay said. “They’ve got you for a haircut with the owner, a straight razor shave and a facial.”

Malcolm blinked. “Um, sure?” he said. 

“And after this, we’re going to take you to get an outfit for tonight,” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed as Clay pulled him close and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s hair.

“Sure thing,” Malcolm said. “Sound fantastic.” He blushed a bit when Clay laughed, Clay’s breath warm on his ear.

“Adorable,” Clay said. “Go on, get going.”

Malcolm jumped when he felt Clay smack his ass and laughed, letting the receptionist lead him to the back of the barbershop. He knew no one was actually looking at him, but Malcolm felt like everyone was staring at him as he walked through the barbershop and finally stopped behind the receptionist at a big red barber chair at the back of the shop.

“Sit,” Clay said.

Malcolm slowly climbed onto the chair, humming softly as the red leather seemed to envelop him. He watched as Clay took a spot behind Malcolm, but still visible in the reflection in the mirror. A few minutes later the sound of boots on concrete had Malcolm’s attention and he looked up to see a pretty imposing figure approaching the chair.

“Xavier!” Clay stood and gave the man a hug.

“Clay! I was surprised to hear from you! You’re lucky I had an opening today.”

Malcolm watched the interaction between Clay and Xavier with interest - they clearly were good friends.

“Well, I’m in town for the Gala,” Clay said.

“Wait, you haven’t been to the Gala in years,” Xavier said. 

“I know,” Clay said. “Things change.”

Malcolm blushed when Xavier’s gaze suddenly turned to him, and he resisted the urge to sink into the chair as Xavier approached the chair and watched him intently in the mirror.

“Hello,” Xavier said.

“Hey,” Malcolm said.

“Xavier, this is Malcolm,” Clay said. “Malcolm, this is Xavier. He’s a good friend of mine and he owns this shop. He’s going to be taking care of you today.”

“Your hair, at least,” Xavier said. “I’m sure Clay takes good care of everything else.”

“Xavier, be nice,” Clay said. “We’re on a bit of a schedule. I still need to get him something to wear.”

“Well then, we’d best get started,” Xavier said. “Do I get free reign?”

“Let’s not go overboard,” Clay said. “He’s going to have to see his family and still go back to school.”

“So there goes platinum blonde,” Xavier said with a laugh.

“Blonde?” Malcolm squeaked.

“Relax,” Xavier said. “I’m joking - platinum blonde would wash you out.”

“Xavier,” Clay said. “Schedule?”

“Fine, fine, ruin my fun,” Xavier said. “We’re just going to do a gloss and a good cut, then straight razor shave and a cleansing and moisturizing facial.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clay said. “Work your magic, Xavier.”

“Magic indeed,” Xavier said.

Malcolm blinked as cape was wrapped around and snapped tight around his neck, watching his reflection in the mirror as Xavier started combing through his hair. Malcolm felt so silly when a group of people all started coming around and working with Xavier on him, that Malcolm searched out Clay in the mirror’s reflection and watched Clay instead of himself. 

Malcolm suffered goop on his hair, goop on his face and tried not to freak out when Xavier practically attacked his hair with scissors. Chunks of hair dropped to the floor and Malcolm practically held his breath, breathing a sigh of relief when the scissors were set down. Xavier picked up the jar of pomade and Malcolm smiled when Clay stopped Xavier.

“Do you mind if I try my hand at it?” Clay asked.

“Be my guest,” Xavier said, passing the pomade over to Malcolm.

Malcolm sat up a bit straighter as Clay stepped up behind the chair.

“Doing okay?” Clay asked.

“Okay,” Malcolm said. “I feel like it’s all been a bit much, but if you like it.”

“I do,” Clay said. “And you look lovely.”

“Th-thanks.” Malcolm couldn’t help but sigh when he felt Clay’s hands in his hair, fingers carding through his hair, tugging it this way and that. He groaned and let his head drop back, not even blushing when he heard Xavier laugh.

“All right, all right, we’re all done,” Clay said. “Wouldn’t want to give Xavier a show.”

“Maybe later,” Xavier joked as he came back and removed Malcolm’s cape. 

Before Malcolm could comment, he found himself tugged to his feet and led from the barbershop.

“Ignore Xavier, he’s just an ass,” Clay said.

“Seemed nice to me,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Gonna tell me what he meant back there? About a show?”

“I’ll tell you once we get you dressed,” Clay said. “Can you hold on for that long?”

Malcolm was quiet for a few minutes, then nodded He trusted Clay, trusted Clay with his body, his heart, his life … he trusted Clay had a reason for keeping secrets. He smiled when Clay pulled him close and gave him a sweet kiss.

“That’s my bright boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm hummed at the rush of pleasure he felt, returning the kiss for a moment before letting Clay help him into the car.

“You mentioned clothes,” Malcolm said. “I assume you didn’t pack clothes for me.”

“You’d assume right,” Clay said. “This Gala has a specific dress code, so we have to go somewhere specific to get you the right shit.”

Malcolm laughed. “The right shit,” he said. “Okay.”

“It won’t be embarrassing, I promise,” Clay said. “And I promise you’ll be completely covered.”

“That’s actually really reassuring,” Malcolm said.

“Figured it would be,” Clay said. “Relax. And trust me.”

“I do,” Malcolm said, snuggling into Clay’s side as the car ventured back into traffic.

“I know,” Clay murmured.

Malcolm smiled when he felt Clay press a kiss to his hair, enjoying the quiet as the car wound its way through the city. When the car came to a stop again, Malcolm glanced out the window - the buildings on either side of the car were nondescript, no way of telling what was behind the doors.

“Ready?” Clay asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Malcolm said. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Clay said. “Swear.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, letting Clay tug him out of the car and up the sidewalk to one a plain storefront with just a dark red door with a gold and black rose painted on it. There wasn’t even a knob on the door - so how was one to get inside? Malcolm watching in fascination as Clay knocked on a specific gold rose petal and, after a few minutes, the door swung inward.

“Welcome to La Rose D'or,” Clay said.

“Swanky,” Malcolm said as he followed Clay inside the building, stopping just inside the entryway, which was a small foyer paneled in dark oak and filled with the scent of … “Leather,” Malcolm breathed.

“That’s right,” Clay said. “Leather. I want you in leather tonight.”

Malcolm gasped as he suddenly found himself tugged against Clay, Malcolm’s back pressed against Clay’s front. 

“Yes,” Malcolm whispered, humming when he felt Clay’s breath warm on his ear. “Yes.”

“That’s my bright boy,” Clay whispered. “Now, it might be a bit overwhelming once we’re in the store proper, so you just tell me if you need a breather, okay?”

Malcolm nodded, smiling when Clay took his hand and led him from the foyer into the store. Once they stepped inside, Malcolm stopped and stared. The store was three stories, with one large main floor and two balcony-esque floors above it. The entire place practically buzzed with energy and Malcolm could hear people chatting and laughing and past that, could hear the telltale sounds of a flogger. And above everything, the whole store smelled of leather - what had been strong in the foyer was overwhelming once in the store itself.

“Take a moment to take it all in, M,” Clay murmured.

“I’ve never seen any place like this,” Malcolm said.

“I know,” Clay replied. “I get most of my stuff from here - they even have a guy here that will make you custom furniture. But we’re not here for toys today, we’re here to get you dressed.”

“Something tells me the stuff here can’t be found at a local department store,” Malcolm said a bit cheekily, grinning when Clay laughed.

“You’d be right,” Clay said. “Come on, clothing is up on the second and third floors.”

Malcolm nodded and followed Clay through the store and up a flight of stairs to the second floor, trying not to gawk at everything. On the second floor, Clay led Malcolm through racks upon racks of clothes and Malcolm noticed that everything was organized by color, not gender as Malcolm had assumed it would be.

“Interesting organization,” Malcolm commented as they stopped by a few racks of white clothes.

“Different strokes for different folks, M,” Clay said. “Sometimes what a man needs is a good dress.”

Malcolm felt an odd flutter in stomach and made a mental note to examine that feeling later.

“But we’re looking for something else for you tonight,” Clay continued.

“Oh?” Malcolm said.

“Yep,” Clay said. “It’s a black and white theme. Boring, I know, but I didn’t have a say in the matter so we’ll just have to make due. Since I’m going to be in all black, it only makes sense that you would go in all white.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said slowly, turning his attention to the rack of clothes. “Do I get a say in the matter?”

“Maybe,” Clay replied with a grin. “It might be slightly out of your comfort zone but I think you like that sometimes.”

Malcolm felt himself blush as he nodded. “Sometimes,” he agreed.

“So I think we’ll just stick to the basics,” Clay said. “Pants, shirt, and maybe an accessory or two.”

Malcolm had a suspicion that his definition of accessory and Clay’s definition of accessory were not the same thing. He stood back and watched with avid curiosity as Clay perused the racks, looking intently at a specific item before shaking his head and putting it back. Some of the things Clay looked at made Malcolm nervous, but he also couldn’t help but feel excited. Clay finally pulled a pair of pants off the rack, checked the size and smiled, then tossed them over his arm.

“Pants done,” Clay said. “Wanna see?”

“Yes,” Malcolm said. When Clay held up the pants for Malcolm’s inspection, Malcolm immediately noticed that the pants laced up each side, meaning Malcolm couldn’t …

“Yep,” Clay said. “No underwear with these. Does that scare you or excite you?”

“Both,” Malcolm whispered.

“Good,” Clay replied. “Since I know your sizes, I won’t make you try them on here. We’ll wait until we’re back at my hotel to get you dressed.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm replied. 

“Thought you’d agree,” Clay said. “Now, we’re gonna find you a shirt to wear and then an accessory or two.”

Malcolm just nodded and watched as Clay went through the racks of white shirts performing the same ritual he’d done with the pants - take something off the rack, eye it carefully, then put it back. Finally, after what seemed like twenty different tops, Clay finally deemed one worthy and laid it over his arm with the pants.

“Can I see?” Malcolm asked.

“Sure,” Clay said.

Malcolm felt butterflies in his stomach when he saw the white tank top, made completely of lace.

“Oh,” Malcolm said softly. “It’s pretty.”

“I think it’ll look great with the pants,” Clay said. “And you’ll look absolutely beautiful in it.”

“Beautiful?”

“Beautiful,” Clay repeated.

Malcolm felt himself blush - he thought he was used to Clay’s easy compliments, but clearly he wasn’t - Clay still had the ability to get under his skin.

“Th-thanks,” Malcolm said. “Um, you mentioned accessories?”

“I did,” Clay said. “For those, we’ll need to go back downstairs.”

Malcolm just nodded and let Clay lead the way back downstairs. Once back on the ground floor, Malcolm followed Clay through the racks and shelves, hands shoved in his coat pockets to keep from touching. He always did like to touch things … 

“All right,” Clay said. “I’m thinking a harness at least, and maybe a cuff.”

“Harness,” Malcolm said.

“It’ll look great over the shirt,” Clay said. “Come on, M, live a little!”

“Well, it’s your dime, who am I to say no,” Malcolm replied.

“That’s my boy,” Clay said.

Malcolm just laughed and watched as Clay went back to the racks and searched until Clay found what was apparently the perfect harness.

“It’s not gonna be uncomfortable, is it?” Malcolm asked.

“No, it’s lined,” Clay said. “And this one you don’t get to see until it’s time to put it on.”

Malcolm chuckled as Clay tucked the harness under the pants on his arm.

“Fine, fine,” Malcolm said. “Anything else? Shoes maybe?”

“You’ll wear a pair of slip ons in the car and into the foyer of the club, but once we get inside the club, you’ll be barefoot,” Clay said. “I promise to make sure you don’t step on anything.”

“I appreciate it,” Malcolm said. “So, we ready to go?”

“Just gonna pick up a cuff for you up near the register,” Clay said. “Then we’ll go back to the hotel. We can get in a good meal, then I’ll get dressed, get you dressed and we’ll head out.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said.

“You sure you want to do this?” Clay said. “I won’t force you, but once we’re at the club that’s it.”

“I understand,” Malcolm said. “I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Clay said. “Okay.”

Malcolm tucked himself against Clay’s side as they headed over to the register. Malcolm watched as everything was rung up, folded and placed into a bag. He tried to get a better look at the harness, but the clerk tucked it into a bag before Malcolm could get a good look.

“So, dinner?” Malcolm asked as they left La Rose D'or and got back into the car.

“Room service,” Clay said. “I need a little peace and quiet before the party.”

“Can I get whatever I want from room service?” Malcolm asked.

“Of course,” Clay said. “Even steak, although I know you wouldn’t order that.”

“Too heavy,” Malcolm agreed. “But maybe some pie?”

“I do believe the hotel serves pie,” Clay replied.

“Awesome,” Malcolm said. “Then a good salad and some pie.”

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I request you have a little more protein before the party tonight,” Clay said. “Maybe a chicken breast to go with your salad? Tonight’s going to be a lot and you’ll want your strength.”

“Y-yeah,” Malcolm said. “I can do that.”

“For myself, I plan on having a nice steak and some mashed potatoes,” Clay said.

“Of course,” Malcolm said. “Shocker.” He squeaked when Clay reached over and tweaked a nipple.

“Imp,” Clay said.

“You like it,” Malcolm retorted, grinning when Clay tweaked his nipple again.

“Damned right I do,” Clay replied.

Malcolm snuggled against Clay happily as the car made its way through the city to the hotel. As the car came to a stop, Malcolm glanced out the window and blinked.

“The Four Seasons? Swanky.” Malcolm said, giving a low whistle.

“Only the best,” Clay said as he climbed out of the car and tugged Malcolm with him.

“I see,” Malcolm said, following Clay into the hotel right to the elevators. They rode the elevator in companionable silence and as soon as they were in the room, Malcolm headed right for the bedroom and belly flopped right onto the bed.

“I see how it is,” Clay said with a laugh.

Malcolm laughed and rolled onto his back, smiling up at Clay.

“Hotel beds are awesome,” Malcolm said. “Seriously. Also, room service menu?”

“I’ll have to remember this for next time,” Clay said. “M likes hotels.”

“It’s like a mini vacation!” Malcolm said, accepting the menut that Clay handed him.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay hummed. “Go on, look through the menu and tell me what you want.”

Malcolm sat up on the bed and perused the menu, until he decided on lemon chicken breast with steamed vegetables and a slice of peach pie. He smiled when Clay joined him on the bed, reading the menu over his shoulder. He laughed when Clay reached around him for the phone, keeping Malcolm close to him as he ordered their dinners.

“Still gonna keep that harness hidden?” Malcolm asked.

“Yep, until it’s time to get you into it,” Clay said. “Surprises can be fun.”

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed, happy to relax against Clay as they waited for dinner.

It wasn’t long before dinner arrived and Malcolm and Clay moved to the living room to eat, sitting in front of the window to watch the lights from the city.

“I love the lights,” Malcolm said. “For as much as this city brings back horrible memories, I love the lights, the way they seem to dance to a song only they can hear.” He smiled when he felt Clay press a kiss to his hair.

“I love the lights too,” Clay said softly. “And how it seems so much quieter up here.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said. “It’s nice.”

“Soon enough, though, we’ll be back in it,” Clay said. “Ready for that?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Malcolm said.

“Ready for tonight?” Clay asked. “Because I’m going to go get ready, then we’ll get you ready and then we’re heading out. Once we’re out that door, there’s no going back.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Malcolm said.

“All right,” Clay said as he stood and headed for the bathroom, grabbing a garment bag off one of the chairs. “Do me a favor and get our dinner trash together and set it out for them to come get?”

Malcolm nodded, standing and gathering all the empty plates and other things from dinner and organizing them so he could set them out for someone to pick up. He hummed to himself as he worked, trying to keep himself distracted do he didn’t start to panic about what the rest of the night would bring. Just as he stepped back into the living room from setting the plates outside the door, Malcolm heard Clay exit the bathroom. Malcolm stepped into the bedroom and froze when he saw Clay standing near the bed.

When Clay had said he was going to be in all black, Malcolm hadn’t realized what the impact of Clay in all black would have on him. Clay wore shiny black cowboy boots, perfectly tailored black slacks, a sheer black button up and a sleek leather jacket. 

“What do you think, darlin’?” Clay asked.

Malcolm licked his lips as he continued to stare.

“Green,” Malcolm replied, blushing when Clay laughed. “I meant good. You look good.”

“Now there’s a Freudian slip if I ever heard one, M,” Clay said. “Ready to get changed?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Malcolm said, already starting to strip down. He carefully folded each item and laid it down on the bench at the end of the bed. When he finished undressing, he turned to Clay expectantly.

“Beautiful,” Clay praised. “Now, we’re going to do the pants first, obviously. But before those even go on, I’m going to put a little dusting powder on your legs to keep chafing down. These pants are lined, but I just want that second layer of protection.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, then nearly swallowed his tongue when Clay knelt down in front of him. Normally Malcolm was the one kneeling in front of Clay so to see Clay on his knees … he jumped when he felt Clay playfully tap his cock.

“None of that,” Clay said. “These pants are going to be tight, so no erections while I’m getting you in them.”

“Kinda hard when you’re kneeling in front of me,” Malcolm said, laughing at the double entendre. 

“Very funny,” Clay said. “Now hold still.”

Malcolm practically held his breath and willed himself to think about anything other than Clay’s hands on his legs and ass, gently rubbing powder into his skin, breathing a sigh of relief when Clay finally stopped.

“My bright boy,” Clay murmured. “Time to get into the pants. Now they’re not tightened, so you should be able to step into them and pull them up fine and then I’ll lace you in.”

Malcolm nodded and accepted the pants from Clay, easily stepping into them and pulling them up. When they felt like they wouldn’t go up any higher, Malcolm looked down and frowned a little. In the front they sat just below his hip bones leaving his navel bare. And in the back … Malcolm reached around and realized that the pants just barely covered his ass in the back. 

“Clay,” Malcolm said softly.

“I did say you were going to be completely covered,” Clay admitted. “I might’ve fudged that a bit.”

“You think?” Malcolm said.

“I won’t leave your side all night, okay?” Clay said. “I’ll be right there, the whole time.”

“Okay,” Malcolm said. “That shirt had better not be a crop top.”

Clay laughed and shook his head as he reached into the bag and pulled out the lace tank top.

“Definitely not a crop top,” Clay said, passing the shirt to Malcolm.

“Mmmhmm,” Malcolm hummed as he slipped the shirt over his head and tugged it down. When it reached just above his navel, he gave Clay a look.

“Didn’t say it was going to cover your belly button either,” Clay said with a wink.

Malcolm resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his midsection and sighed softly. When Clay pulled him close, Malcolm practically melted into Clay’s embrace.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this, M,” Clay whispered. “And when everyone at the Gala is staring at you and whispering about how beautiful you are, none of them will even be able to touch you. Because you’re _mine_.”

Malcolm shivered at Clay’s words and nodded.

“Yours,” Malcolm agreed.

“Now, you ready for the harness?” Clay asked. “It looks scarier than it is, promise.”

Malcolm stepped out of Clay’s embrace and nodded again.

“Harness me,” Malcolm said with a grin.

“Easier said than done, M,” Clay replied as he reached into the back and pulled out the harness.

Hanging from Clay’s fingers, all Malcolm could see were a bunch of white straps and silver rings. He stood there for a minute trying to figure out how he’d even get into it before Clay was suddenly next to him, helping him put first one arm, then the other, into various holes in the leather contraption. Malcolm made a face as he wiggled his arms and shoulders a bit, trying to both adjust the harness and get used to the feel of the leather straps slightly compressing his skin.

“Feels funny,” Malcolm said.

“You’ll get used to it,” Clay replied. “Now, I have a coat for you to wear and some shoes. But first, the cuff.”

Malcolm smiled and held out his right wrist as he watched Clay pull the cuff from the bag. He was surprised, however, when Clay took his left wrist. His breath hitched when Clay lifted his left wrist and pressed a soft kiss to his pulse point before wrapping the white leather cuff around it, buckling it carefully in place. When Malcolm took a closer look at the cuff, he saw a little silver plaque on it that said _Property of CR_.

“Marking me?” Malcolm asked, running his thumb over the plaque.

“Maybe just a little,” Clay said. “But I’m betting you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Malcolm replied softly. He constantly had to remind himself that he and Clay were temporary but then Clay did something like this and Malcolm melted.

“Good,” Clay said. “Come on, coat and shoes and then we’re off.”

Malcolm wiggled again against the harness as he followed Clay back into the living room, slipping his feet into the shoes Clay laid out for him and letting Clay help him into a heavy coat to protect him from the cold. Clay buttoned the coat and Malcolm snuggled into it a bit, giving Clay a grin.

“Feels cozy,” Malcom said. “We ready to go?”

Clay nodded. “Ready,” he said. “One last chance to back out, M.”

Malcolm shook his head. “No, I want to go,” he said. “I want to do this.”

“Okay,” Clay said, slipping an arm around Malcolm’s shoulders and tucking him close as they left left the hotel room and headed down to the lobby. 

Malcolm was grateful for the coat that kept most of his clothing from being visible to the other hotel patrons, although he still felt a little self conscious when he caught someone looking at his pants. Once they were out of the hotel and into the car, Malcolm sighed softly and relaxed against Clay.

“People were looking,” Malcolm whispered.

“You’re not gonna have that coat when we’re at the Gala, M,” Clay said. “You’re going to get a lot of looks tonight. Are you ready for that?”

Malcolm smiled and nodded. “That’s different,” he said. “They’re like us.”

Clay chuckled. “That they are,” he said. “Everyone is gonna be so goddamn jealous of me tonight.”

Malcolm flushed at the praise, resting his head on Clay’s shoulder for the rest of the ride. When the car came to a stop, Malcolm looked out the window, expecting to see some flashy club with a huge line of people and flashing lights. What he saw instead was a plain red brick building with a heavy rusted brown door.

“Not what I expected,” Malcolm said as he climbed out.

“We don’t need flashy to get people to come here,” Clay said as he climbed out and tucked Malcolm against his side. “Welcome to A Murder of Crows. Best BDSM club that no one knows about.”

“A Murder of Crows,” Malcolm repeated as he let Clay lead up up to the door. “It’s a good name. Very innocuous.”

“I know,” Clay said. “Deep breath, Malcolm. Take a deep breath.” 

Malcolm took a deep breath, watching as Clay knocked on the door. A peephole he hadn’t noticed opened and then a few minutes later the door opened. Malcolm took another deep breath as Clay led him through the door into the foyer of the club. It was wood paneled and very small - to the right there was a wall of cubbies, some filled with shoes, the rest empty.

“Clay Russell!”

“Charlie!” Clay said, greeting the man waiting inside with a big bear hug. “Malcolm, this is Charlie, door man for A Murder of Crows. Charlie, this is Malcolm.”

“Nice to meet you,” Malcolm said.

“Good to meet ya,” Charlie said. “Shoes and coat go into one of the cubbies.”

Malcolm glanced over at Clay, and when Clay nodded, he shrugged out of his coat, stepped out of his shoes and stowed them in a cubby.

“Damn, Clay,” Charlie said.

“Oh I know,” Clay replied.

“You two are going to be the talk of the Gala,” Charlie said. “But I bet that’s exactly what you wanted.”

“You know me, always like to get tongues wagging,” Clay said. “Malcolm come on.”

Malcolm crossed the small foyer and tucked himself against Clay’s side.

“I hope it’s warmer in there,” Malcolm said softly.

“It is,” Clay said with a chuckle. “Now, I know what we do at home; what’s beyond that door is more. A lot more. So try not to stare, okay?”

“Okay,” Malcolm said, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders. “Let’s go.” 

“My bright boy,” Clay said, pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s hair before pulling the door open and stepping inside, tugging Malcolm with him.

Once beyond the foyer into the club proper, Malcolm had to pause for a moment. The club was dim, but not so dim you couldn’t see what was going on. Malcolm could see a bar along the back wall, but between him and the bar were _people_. And things. And people doing _things_. And most of them weren’t wearing much in the way of clothes. Malcolm was suddenly grateful for the cover Clay had granted him.

Being New Years’ Eve, Malcolm had expected happy, party music. Instead the sounds coming from the speakers were dark and instrumental, yet oddly soothing.

“Take it all in,” Clay said. “I might want to put you on the St. Andrews Cross later. Maybe flog you a bit.”

Malcolm hummed and leaned against Clay’s side, then jumped when he suddenly felt a slap on his ass. He frowned and looked to see a man pass in front of him and Clay and give Malcolm a wink.

Clay immediately grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, making the man cry out.

“Did you ask if you could touch?” Clay asked, his tone suddenly dark.

“N-no,” the man stuttered.

“Apologize to my boy,” Clay said. “And then I suggest you re-educate yourself about proper etiquette. You don’t touch what’s not yours without permission.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, then turned to Malcolm. “My deepest apologies.”

Malcolm glanced up at Clay and, after Clay nodded, turned back to the man. “Accepted,” he said.

The man practically ran away and Malcolm glanced up at Clay again.

“Definitely different then home,” Malcolm said.

“I know, but you behaved perfectly,” Clay said. 

“Still making waves, I see!”

“Well hell, can’t let anyone forget me,” Clay said, turning towards the voice.

Malcolm turned with him and eyed the couple in front of him curiously. The shorter man was dressed similarly to Clay, but sported a black hat almost like a cowboy hat. And the taller man next to him was wearing a _very_ small pair of white shorts and a white leather collar.

“Highly doubt they’d do that, Clay,” the man said. 

“Shit sorry, my manners,” Clay said, smiling down at Malcolm. “M, this is … well everyone just calls him Cougar. And the man next to him is Jensen.”

“Pleasure,” Cougar said. “Jensen, say hi.”

“Hi,” Jensen said with a bright smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Malcolm said.

“He’s pretty, Clay,” Cougar said. “If I didn’t already have my hands full with this one, I’d snatch him from you.”

“Like I’d let you,” Clay said. “I’m in the city for a few more days, let’s grab lunch.”

“Sure,” Cougar said. “I’m going to take Jensen here over to one of the spanking benches. Call me tomorrow.”

“Will do,” Clay said. “Have fun.”

“Always do,” Cougar called as he tugged Jensen through the club.

Malcolm watched them with a grin. 

“Cougar?” Malcolm asked.

“He’d probably kill me and you if I told you his real name,” Clay said. “Known them both a long time - two of my best friends.”

“They seem nice,” Malcom said.

“They are. Maybe you can come when I grab lunch with them,” Clay said.

“I’d like that,” Malcom said.

“But for now,” Clay said, “let’s take a lap around the club so you can see everything.”

Malcolm nodded and let Clay lead the way as they took a slow lap around the club, letting Malcolm take everything in. They passed spanking benches, stocks, St. Andrew's Crosses, swings, suspension rigs … Malcolm tried not to stare but it was a lot to take in.

“You doin’ okay?” Clay asked.

Malcolm nodded. “It’s a lot,” he said, then stopped and stared when he saw a woman wrapped in ropes but they were knotted and twisted in such an interesting way.

“Shibari,” Clay said. “Every twist, every knot serves to enhance her pleasure. See how he has the ropes around her breasts? The way her nipples are effectively clamped between the ropes? Everytime she moves, the ropes rub against her nipples.”

Malcolm watched in silence, the squeaked when he felt Clay tweak one of his nipples.

“She looks happy.” And she did - the look on the woman’s face was one of pure bliss and Malcolm couldn’t help but smile.

“She is,” Clay said. “Come on, still a little bit more to see.”

Malcolm looked around with a small frown. They’d made it about halfway around the club, but the rest of the club was mostly tables and couches. 

“There’s more?” Malcolm asked.

“Down there,” Clay said, motioning down a hall Malcolm hadn’t noticed before. “We’re not going to use any of them tonight, but I want you to see them. In case we come back. Or if you come back with someone else.”

Malcolm nodded and let Clay lead him down the hall and Malcolm was surprised to see door, each one with a little window in it.

“Playrooms,” Clay said. “For those who like a little roleplay.”

“Oh,” Malcom said, taking a moment to glance into each of the rooms. There was a medical room, a room that looked like a stable, a room that looked like an interrogation room and … “A classroom.”

“Mmmhmm,” Clay said. “Any student and professor fantasies you want to play?”

Malcolm blushed and shook his head. “Don’t need fantasy, I got the real thing,” he said softly.

“Such a romantic,” Clay said.

“What’s in the last room?” Malcolm said, nodding at the room straight down the hall.

“That is the orgy room,” Clay said. “Once you’re in that room, nothing is off limits. Everyone and anyone can touch everyone and anyone.”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. There was a part of him that found it intriguing, but not intriguing enough to venture inside.

“No, that’s not for you,” Clay said. “Not really for me either - I’m a possessive bastard and don’t like other people touching what’s mine.”

“So I’ve come to discover,” Malcolm replied with a smile.

Clay laughed and pulled Malcolm in for a kiss. 

“For now, though, I want a drink,” Clay said. “We’ll watch the action for a while before joining in.”

Malcolm felt butterflies in his stomach when Clay mentioned joining in and smiled, snuggling into Clay’s side as they left the hall and headed towards the bar. Malcolm smiled as Clay ordered them each a bourbon, then carried the glasses over to one of the couches. Malcolm watched as Clay sat down on the couch, then tossed a cushion on the floor next to him.

“Next to me, M,” Clay said softly, though his tone brooked no insolence.

Malcolm bowed his head and nodded, easily dropping to his knees onto the cushion. He smiled when Clay pressed one the glasses of bourbon into his hand, then hummed when he felt Clay’s hand in his hair, leaning into the touch even as he sipped his drink.

“I love your hands,” Malcolm murmured.

“My little hedonist,” Clay said.

Malcolm gasped when Clay gave his hair a sharp tug, toes curling a bit. The whole time he sipped his drink, Clay alternated between tugging and stroking his hair and Malcolm groaned softly.

“Clay,” Malcolm whispered.

“Hmm?” Clay hummed.

“You’re teasing,” Malcolm murmured.

“That’s the idea, my bright boy,” Clay replied. “I want you on edge .. it’ll be that much sweeter when you come.”

“When I …”

“That’s right, darlin’,” Clay said. “Plan to put you onto that St. Andrew’s Cross and flog you. But first, I’m going to free that cock of yours so that I can see you come. Want everyone to see how fucking beautiful you are when you come, M.”

Malcolm whimpered softly. There was a part of him that didn’t want it, didn’t want to come in front of people. But the bigger part of him? Wanted to know what it felt like to be watched by strangers as Clay brought him to orgasm.

“Yes,” Malcolm whispered. “Yes.”

“That’s my bright boy,” Clay said. 

Malcolm glanced up as Clay released the hold on his hair, watching as Clay downed the rest of his drink before standing and offering Malcolm a hand. He slipped his hand into Clay’s and let Clay tug him him up, following as Clay led the way through the club.

Malcolm could feel eyes on him and Clay as they walked, could hear whispers, even over the music. He felt the nerves rising as they reached a St. Andrew’s Cross. Malcolm was familiar with the device, had been strapped into one more than once. This time felt markedly different. Malcolm felt as if a hush fell over the room as Clay stood in front of Malcolm, leaning down and kissing him sweetly.

“I’m going to remove your harness and your shirt,” Clay said softly. “And then I’m going to secure you to the cross.”

Malcolm swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said, sighing when Clay reached out to caress his hair.

“Once you’re secured, I’m going to unlace those pants,” Clay said. “Lower them so your cock is free and your ass is on display.”

Malcolm whimpered softly.

“Oh you like that, don’t you, darlin’,” Clay said with a smile. “Thought you might.”

“Yes, sir,” Malcolm said softly. He stood perfectly still as Clay removed his harness, only moving to lift his arms so Clay could remove his shirt. Malcolm just barely resisted the urge to wrap his arms around his midsection as he approached the cross and stepped into position, legs spread and arms up.

“So fucking beautiful,” Clay said as he stood behind Malcolm and restrained him - wrists first and then ankles. “I’m going to loosen your pants now, M.”

“Green,” Malcolm whispered. He shivered as he felt Clay’s hand gently caress his lower back before loosening the laces for one side of his pants, then the other. He shivered a bit when cool air hit his ass and cock as Clay lowered his pants, then gave a little yelp as Clay gave his ass a sharp smack.

“Feel free to be vocal, darlin’,” Clay said.

Malcolm took a deep breath and closed his eyes, relaxing against the cross as he waited for Clay to make his first move. The anticipation had Malcolm tapping his fingers on the wood of the cross as he waited. And waited. And wai - the first slap of the flogger against his back made Malcolm gasp and arch into it the strike.

Across his shoulders, down his back, over his ass, Clay struck over and over, the sounds of the strikes almost creating a song against Malcolm’s skin. Malcolm whimpered, cried out, begged … the strikes became faster and harder - Malcolm felt his whole world narrow to the feel of those strikes on his back, the sound of the flogger on his skin. Again and again Clay struck him until finally he came with a loud shout and collapsed against the cross.

Malcolm barely registered being released from the cross, whimpering at the ache in him arms, but still floating from the sting on his back. A soft blanket was wrapped around him and Malcolm whimpered again when he was lifted into strong arms. Everything around was fuzzy, muted, as Malcolm felt himself carried through the club. When the movement finally stopped, Malcolm hummed happily and snuggled into the strong arms around him.

“My bright boy.”

“Yours,” Malcolm mumbled.

Slowly, slowly, the world started to come back into focus. Malcolm blinked and smacked his lips a bit , surprised when there was suddenly a straw between his lips.

“Drink, darlin’,” Clay murmured. 

Malcolm nodded and wrapped his lips around the straw, drinking greedily until the glass was empty.

“Happy New Year,” Malcolm said, leaning up to press a kiss to Clay’s jaw.

‘Happy New Year, M.”

* * * 

The new year led directly into Malcolm’s final semester at Harvard and preparing for grad school. Everytime Malcolm looked at his phone and saw another day had passed, he realized he was that much closer to his and Clay’s eventual end.

“What if I didn’t go to grad school?” Malcolm asked quietly one night as he and Clay sat in the living room.

“No,” Clay said.

“No?” Malcolm said.

“You’re going to grad school,” Clay replied.

Malcolm squeaked when he suddenly found himself tugged onto Clay’s lap.

“But what if I didn’t?” Clay asked. “What if I stayed here?”

“No,” Clay said. “We had this talk, darlin’. I’m not going to be the thing that holds you back and you were meant for more than just Harvard.”

Malcolm sighed and snuggled into Clay, pressing his nose to Clay’s neck.

“But it won’t be this,” Malcolm whispered.

“No, it won’t,” Clay replied. “But you’re going to love Albany. The school is great and I know a couple of people there. I’ll introduce you to them before the end of the semester. As I suspect your mother will want to spend the summer with you before sending you up to Albany for three years.”

“You’ll come visit during the summer?” Malcolm asked.

“Damned right I will,” Clay replied.

Malcolm sighed softly and nodded.

“It’s just -”

“Change,” Clay finished for him. “I do understand.”

“Three years, Clay,” Malcolm said. “Kinda hard to just push it aside.”

“I’m not asking you to push it aside,” Clay said. “You’re always going to be my M, my bright boy.”

“And you’ll always be mine,” Malcolm murmured.

“Damned right,” Clay replied. “We’re still going to talk and see each other when we can.”

Malcolm nodded again.

“Sure I can’t just stay here?” Malcolm asked, pressing a few kisses to Clay’s jaw, smiling when Clay chuckled

“Sure,” Clay said. “Now come on, time for bed.”

Malcolm groaned as Clay shoved him off his lap, then gave a languid stretch.

“Sure I can’t convince you to participate in some late night shenanigans?” Malcolm asked as he headed for the stairs, stripping as he walked.

“Pretty sure,” Clay said as he stood and followed Malcolm. “Still have morning yoga and a run.”

“Spoilsport,” Malcolm called as he walked down the hallway to Clay’s room. Once inside he turned down the bed and climbed under the covers, situating himself so he could still see Clay as Clay got ready for bed.

“I picked up your mess on the way here.” Clay stepped inside the bedroom with Malcolm’s clothes over his arm.

“Whoops,” Malcolm replied.

“Mmmhmm,” Clay said as he tossed Malcolm’s clothes into the hamper.

Malcolm snuggled down under the covers and watched Clay with interest. As each article of clothing was removed, Malcolm mentally catalogued every inch of skin. The way Clay moved sometimes suggested dance training, something Malcolm never thought to ask. Malcolm also never asked about the tattoos that marked Clay’s skin and the scars that marred it. None of it mattered to Malcolm, because to him every inch of Clay was beautiful. When he caught Clay’s gaze he blushed and glanced down at the blankets.

“What’re you doing?” Clay asked as he climbed into bed with Malcolm.

“Trying to memorize you,” Malcolm whispered.

“Aw, darlin’,” Clay replied, tugging Malcolm close. “That’s real sweet.”

“Guess I really am a romantic,” Malcolm murmured.

“Part of your charm,” Clay replied. “Get some sleep, M.”

“Fine,” Malcolm murmured. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

* * * 

As the semester started to come to a close, Clay started introducing Malcolm to various men and women in Albany, people who could step in and take care of Malcolm. It felt so odd - they were casual lunches or dinners, yet to Malcolm they felt like interviews.

Soon enough, Malcolm was buried in late night study sessions and group review sessions, gearing up for the end of the semester and his eventual graduation.

Clay was busy too, having upped his office hours to meet with students before their finals.

There were many a night when they each fell into bed totally exhausted, yet somehow managed to find each other in half sleep, wrapping around each other and taking comfort in each other as they drifted to sleep.

“Done!” Malcolm yelled as he entered the house, dropping his keys on the table just inside the door.

Clay appeared from the kitchen and grinned.

“Done?” Clay said.

“Last final turned in,” Malcolm said. “I get a weeks’ reprieve before grades and graduation and family.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that you’re going to pass your classes,” Clay said.

“Do you now?” Malcolm said. He looked closer and realized that Clay was not dressed for work and wore an apron. “How long have you been home? Didn’t your last class just get out, like, an hour ago?”

“Finals schedule,” Clay said. “I’ve been home for a few hours.”

“And you’ve been cooking?” Malcolm asked. “What’s the occasion?”

“You are,” Clay replied. “Or rather, you finishing your finals is.”

“Aww, now who’s the romantic?” Malcolm teased.

“Never said I wasn’t, darlin’,” Clay said. “I was just about to get everything plated. Care to help?”

“Happy to help,” Malcolm said. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag on the couch and followed Clay into the kitchen. “Fuck, it smells amazing in here.”

“It’s not anything fancy,” Clay said. “Lemon chicken orzo soup with some rosemary olive oil bread.”

“Sounds pretty fancy,” Malcolm said.

“Nah,” Clay replied. “Grab me some bowls, huh?”

Malcolm nodded and grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He pressed a kiss to Clay’s cheek as Clay filled each of the bowls with soup. Malcolm carried the bowls over to the breakfast bar, setting them down on the placemats Clay had lain down. Malcolm then headed to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of white wine he and Clay had opened a few nights before and poured each of them a glass. As he set the filled glasses down, Clay came behind him with the bread. 

“And dinner is served,” Clay said.

“Awesome,” Malcolm said as he sat down, dropping the napkin in his lap.

“Looking forward to seeing your family?” Clay asked.

“Yes and no,” Malcolm admitted as they ate. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen Ains, but Mother gets kind of -”

“Overbearing?” Clay said.

“Protective,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Her way of protecting me is to try to shelter me. Both me and Ains.”

“She means well,” Clay said. “She’s had it rough too, darlin’.”

“Which is why I cut her some slack,” Malcolm said softly, still smiling. 

“Good boy,” Clay said. “She cares about you, which is more than some kids get.”

Malcom stopped eating, leaned over, and pressed a sweet kiss to Clay’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry your family was shit,” Malcolm whispered.

“I created a better family,” Clay said. “People who supported me and encouraged me.”

“People who taught you to cook?” Malcolm asked.

“Yep,” Clay said. “One of my mentors and their submissive taught me.”

“And who taught you to dance?” Malcolm asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Who says I know how to dance?” Clay asked.

“I can tell in the way you move,” Malcolm said with a shrug. 

“Another mentor,” Clay said, sipping his wine. “When I was still in junior college - after the hospital. Had me take dancing lessons and boxing lessons.”

“And then jiu jitsu, kung fu and Krav Maga,” Malcolm added with a smile. “You built yourself a good family.”

“That much better now that you’re a part of it,” Clay said.

“Seriously, you’re ridiculously romantic,” Malcolm said, giving Clay a quick kiss before going back to dinner.

When dinner was over and the wine gone, they worked in tandem to clean up the kitchen, then headed up to the bedroom. Once up in the room, Malcolm immediately started stripping, tossing his clothes in the hamper before turning down the bed and climbing in.

“You are ridiculously beautiful,” Clay said as he stripped and joined Malcolm on the bed.

“And you know just what to say,” Malcolm said.

“Didn’t need training for that,” Clay said. “Always had a silver tongue.”

“And so humble!” Malcolm said with a laugh.

“Being a cocky asshole is part of my charm,” Clay replied.

“Guess s-so!” Malcolm gasped when Clay leaned down and wrapped his lips around one of Malcolm’s nipples. Malcolm instinctively twined his legs with Clay’s, keeping the man close. He ran a hand through Clay’s hair and gave it an experimental tug, grinning when Clay groaned.

Clay lifted his head and gave Malcolm a smile before licking and sucking at Malcolm’s chest, creating a trail of hickeys on Malcolm’s skin.

“Your skin marks so easily,” Clay murmured. “And so beautifully.”

“Mark me,” Malcolm said. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Malcolm sighed happily and sank into the mattress as Clay began to pepper his skin with bites and kisses, working up to Malcolm’s neck and then back down Malcolm’s chest to his stomach and hips.

“Yes,” Malcolm breathed.

“Gettin’ all my marks in now,” Clay murmured, biting at Malcolm’s hipbone. “So they’re gone in time for your graduation.”

“Yes,” Malcolm said again, arching into Clay’s lips. When he felt Clay shift down and wrap his lips around Malcolm’s cock, Malcolm gasped softly. “Fuck, Clay.” He wrapped his hands in the bed sheets as Clay licked and sucked his cock. When Clay started humming, Malcolm almost lost it right then and there.

“You taste fan-fucking-tastic, darlin’,” Clay said, releasing Malcolm’s cock with a wet pop. 

“I - you - what -”

“Like gettin’ you speechless,” Clay said. “Gonna like poundin’ that ass even more.”

“Such a romantic,” Malcolm said, then gasped when he felt two of Clay’s fingers pressed inside him. “Clay …”

“Easy, darlin’,” Clay said with a smile. 

“Easy for you s-say,” Malcolm gasped as he felt Clay’s fingers scissor inside him. The burn was so sweet, even sweeter when Clay added a third finger. “Clay, please. Please, please, please …”

“So pretty when you beg,” Clay groaned.

Malcolm scraped at Clay’s back as Clay removed his fingers, then pushed into him. Malcolm locked his ankles together at Clay’s lower back and urged him forward.

“Clay, please,” Malcolm said, crying out as Clay slammed into his again and again.

It didn’t take long before they were both coming, Clay’s fingers digging into Malcolm’s hips, Malcolm’s fingers scraping down Clay’s back.

Malcolm sighed softly and sank happily into the mattress, barely moving when he felt Clay slip out. When Clay collapsed gently on top of Malcolm, he smiled and ran a hand down Clay’s back.

“There is a part of me that wants to take a picture of you, marked up like this,” Clay murmured.

“Later,” Malcolm whispered. “I’ll let you take one later.”

Clay chuckled and pressed a kiss to Malcolm’s cheek.

“My bright boy.”

* * * 

“Malcolm, darling!”

Malcolm gave his small group of friends an apologetic smile as he mother descended upon him, Ainsley in tow.

“Mother,” Malcolm said. 

“Malcolm!” Ainsley said excitedly.

“Ains!” Malcolm said, wrapping his sister in a hug. “Damn, when did you get so big?” He winced when his mother smacked him on the shoulder. “No, seriously, how old are you now?”

“You’re so weird,” Ainsley said. “I’m sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Mother letting you learn how to drive yet?” Malcolm asked. Their mother coddled the both of them, but with Malcolm away in college, Ainsley had borne the brunt of it.

“Not yet, but I’m wearing her down,” Ainsley said.

“Why drive? That’s was car services are for,” Jessica said.

“I’d like a little independence,” Ainsley said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Jessica said. “Today is about Malcolm.”

“I just graduated college,” Malcolm said. “People do that all the time, as evidenced by everyone milling around us right now.”

“But you graduated top of your class,” Jessica said. “Already accepted to the University of Albany graduate program!”

“But you’re not going to be any closer,” Ainsley said.

“I’ll be in the same state,” Malcolm said.

“That’s not closer,” Ainsley said. “I looked it up - you’ll be three and a half hours away by train.”

Malcolm just shrugged.

“Well you’ll get your fill of him this summer,” Jessica said. “He’s coming back to the city until it’s time to go up to Albany,”

“You’ll get sick of me,” Malcolm said.

“Not likely,” Ainsley said.

“Mr. Whitly!”

Malcolm resisted the urge to blush and smile at the sound of Clay’s voice. He saw his mother and Ainsley both catch sight of Clay and just barely managed to not burst out laughing - Ainsley had started twirling a lock of hair around her index finger and his mother looked … intrigued. 

“Professor Russell,” Malcolm said.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Clay said.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Ainsley asked.

“Mother, Ainsley this is Professor Russell, one of my many psychology professors here,” Malcolm said. “Thank you, Professor.”

“And I heard you’re going to University of Albany,” Clay continued.

Malcolm bit back a grin as he and Clay pretended to be mere acquaintances

“I am,” Malcolm replied. 

“Well, I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Whitly,” Clay said.

“Thank you, sir,” Malcolm said with a nod. As Clay passed them, presumably to talk to other students or professors, Malcolm shivered when he felt Clay’s fingers brushed him.

“Were all your professors as hot as him?” Ainsley asked.

“Ains!” Malcolm said.

“What?” Ainsley said in mock innocence.

“You’re incorrigible,” Jessica said.

“Learned it from you,” Ainsley retorted.

“All right guys,” Malcolm said. “Enough.”

“Your brother is right,” Jessica said. “We have dinner reservations and then a flight home tonight, seeing as Malcolm’s belongings are already taking up space at home.”

His mother had offered to have someone help him pack, but Malcolm had refused. His mother had been blissfully unaware of his living situation and Malcolm preferred to keep it that way.

“Come on, let’s go,” Malcolm said with a smile. He spared a glance behind him, locating Clay in the crowd and sighed softly.

He knew he’d see Clay again but somehow, it still felt like the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Clay Russell is basically Jeffrey Dean Morgan. *g* 
> 
> Also a HUGE thank you to trekkiepirate, Quentinshair over on Twitter and August over on Discord for being such awesome cheerleaders!


End file.
